Bookish (6 page)

Speaking of tattoos, his had been even more beautiful close up. I vaguely remembered him shrugging his shirt off, just for me this time. I had touched him, felt his smooth skin and bulging muscles as I marvelled at his perfection.

He hadn’t seemed to notice how imperfect I was. He moved against my body like a starving man searching for sustenance. He never once seemed to pull back his hand, comparing me against the fashion models and actresses he’d been with.

It was simply divine, he was divine.

Maybe he’ll call. Or text. Maybe.

I dried off and picked out my clothing, very casual. Baggy hoodie and yoga tights, the kind of thing that screamed, “Help me, I’m hung over.”

I brushed out my long hair and looked for my glasses. They weren’t on the usual spot on my night table. My hand brushed against my phone and it buzzed, letting me know I had a text.

I’m not going to bullshit you, my heart skipped a beat. It leapt up into my throat, did a summersault and dropped back down into the pit of my stomach. Anatomically impossible, but it happened.

“Holy fuck. What did you do last night?”

It was Chloe. My heart sunk lower into the bottom most depths of my leaden tummy and I sighed. It wasn’t him.

“Did you get home ok?” I replied, completely dodging her question.

“WTF happened?” she texted right back. She wasn’t having any of it; she wanted answers that I couldn’t give. WTF had happened last night, really?

“Let’s get…” I started to text, then looked at the time and had to put, “lunch.” I’d slept far too long for breakfast.

“Broadway Diner?”

“Good. See you in twenty.”

I set the phone back on the table, but not before scrolling my texts aimlessly to check for his contact.

Nothing.

I finished getting ready and finally remembered Isaac taking my glasses off at some point and putting them in my purse.

I skipped down the stairs and found them on the top of a mess of receipts and old menus for restaurants I’d never dine at and brochures for places I’d never visit. I have a problem, I just can’t say no when those sad looking people are standing on the street handing them out.

“Are you up?” Auntie Abby yelled from the kitchen. I’d been hoping to escape without facing her, terrified she’d be able to suss out what I’d been up to.

“Yeah,” I replied and slipped my comfy flats on my feet. After yesterday’s heels, my soles were happy. “I’m heading out, to see Chloe.”

“I need to talk to you,” she called, “come in here.”

I gulped, cleared my throat and considered bolting. She must have seen us last night, parked in front like love struck kids. God, I was an idiot. A drunken idiot. Why hadn’t I insisted on going to his place?

His little speech about fucking me rang in my ears and I gulped again. That’s right, that’s why. He said he wanted to have sex with me, but make it meaningful.

Either a load of crap, or the most ridiculously romantic thing a guy’s ever said to a girl.

I decided to take my chops and headed to face her.

Before I got into the kitchen, the smell struck me. Generally our place had kind of an, ‘old cat box, ancient furniture, never aired out because the cats would escape from open windows’ odour.

I smelled flowers, fresh and lovely. Like the inside of a bridal boutique. Had Auntie Abby been spraying that dollar store air freshener again? I swore she’d give us both cancer with that shit.

I was wrong; it was the smell of flowers, hundreds of them. The entire kitchen was filled with beautiful bouquets of all shapes and sizes. There had to be at least a hundred red roses, Lilies, Orchids, daisies…every type I could possibly imagine.

“What?” I asked, my mouth hanging open.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Auntie Abby said, her eye twinkling in mirth. “I believe you have impressed some young man, my dear.”

Auntie Abby wasn’t that old, she was my mother’s older sister and was fifty-three. She was from the old world, as she said, having been born in Budapest. She didn’t have much of an accent, but ever since she was in her thirties, she acted like an old woman. Even before my parents were gone, she had been showing signs of her bohemian lifestyle, wearing babushkas and brightly printed skirts that flowed around her and spun out when she turned.

She felt more like a grandmother to me though; I think my parent’s death had contributed to it too. Taking on my care and feeding had also done it, having to settle down in one spot and devote herself to me…and then her cats.

She made me laugh though, her take on it all. Had I impressed some young man?

“It seems that way,” I said, “was there a card? Maybe they’re for you. I’ve seen the way Mr. Anderson checks you out when you’re bent over trimming your roses.”

“Oh pshhhh,” she hissed and giggled like a schoolgirl. Her long, thick, grey hair was in a loose bun on her head and she was without babushka today. The flowers had moved her, you could see it in how light her smile was, how quick she was to smile.

For that alone I thanked Isaac, for I was certain they were from him.

“There was a card though,” she confessed and reached into some pocket on her long skirt, pulled it out and handed it to me. “I may have read it…accidentally. This Isaac fellow sounds like a real peach.”

“That he is,” I replied and read the card.

It said:
“Aubrey, I am utterly delighted and overjoyed to have made your acquaintance. Please do me the honour of joining me for dinner this evening at six. I will pick you up.

PS Excuse all the flowers, I know we went over a lot of things last night, but favourite flowers were never brought up. I panicked when I went to order them and went overboard.

PPS My wish almost came true, love, but there is still so much more to show you.”

I looked up and Auntie Abby was grinning like a fiend. “He’s adorable,” she said, “is he cute too?”

“Oh yes,” I replied, “so, so, so cute. He’s picking me up at six.”

She squealed and clapped her hands together. “I am so excited for you,” she said, “I have to clean up. Oh dear, so much to do before he gets here.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, “I’m going to meet Chloe and I don’t think he’ll judge us because there are a few scattered newspapers here and there.”

She waved me away and went for the broom closet. There would be no stopping her. We rarely got company, and while we weren’t filthy, we weren’t exactly tidy. I secretly had hoped Isaac wouldn’t come inside, but if he did, I was grateful she would clean up a little.

“I’ll see you later,” I said, feeling guilty leaving her like this, but dying to tell Chloe all about it. I hoped she’d be over her little snit and let me have my little moment in the sun.

I should have known she’d never let it go. Unfortunately by the time I realized how deep her bitter jealousy went, everything was in shambles.

Chapter Nine

She was waiting when I got there, which was never a good way to start a visit with Chloe. She liked to be the late one.

“Well, how kind of you to show up,” she said and jiggled her leg under the table.

“Did you order?” I asked and picked up a menu. I was only ten minutes late, it’s not like I’d given her mom cancer or something. I didn’t get the level of her irritation unless she was still pissed about being shut out by Isaac last night.

“Uh, no,” she replied, “I was waiting for you. But I’m
starving
.”

The waitress took our order and came back with two black coffees. Chloe sipped hers and pouted until I finally broke the silence.

“Did you have fun last night?” I asked.

“Not as much as you obviously.”

“I’m not going to hide it, I had a fantastic time.”

“It’s all over the blogs. Everybody knows
allll
about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Uh, you basically made out with him in public, in front of everyone at the event. Blogs are sharing pictures, readers are sharing pictures. There’s a huge argument about people hooking up at book events on Twitter. It’s like world war three out there, all because of you.”

My mouth went dry and my throat closed. My entire existence was built up around being in the background. I was infinitely more comfortable letting people like Chloe shine in the spotlight.

I would hold her coat while she danced, that was where I felt I was meant to be.

To be exposed like this felt unnatural. “So is it just in the book community?” I asked.

“Isn’t that enough?” she demanded, “I am so embarrassed by this.”

“Why are you making it personal?” I asked, “This isn’t about you. This is about me and finally making a bad decision. Finally living.”

“You realize he used you,” she said, “he could tell I wasn’t interested so he moved on to you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I replied, “we both know that’s not true.”

I didn’t know why she was making it so personal, it had nothing to do with her really. She hadn’t become part of the book community until long after I had built my little empire. I truly had the most to lose here.

I grabbed my phone and checked out a few of my favourite blogs. The first had a small blurb about unseemly conduct at book events, but nothing too damning.

It got worse as I went along. By the end of my little tour, I was almost in tears.

There were photos of Isaac and I kissing, leaving together, and even some of us in my car driving away from the hotel. I was painfully aware of the disparity between us, he was gorgeous in every one and I looked plain and frumpy. I was even caught in mid glasses shove with my finger in the middle of the frame and my lips screwed up.

“This is bad,” I said and realized my food had arrived and already gone cold, “this is really bad.”

“I told you,” Chloe crowed, “he was just looking for a quickie at the event.”

“That’s not true though,” I replied, “we didn’t hook up. We never had sex. In fact, we’re going on a date tonight.”

Chloe’s face dropped, then she clamped her lips together and narrowed her eyes. “Well that’s sweet,” she said, “I’m really happy for you. You’ve waited so long for anybody to notice you, I guess it’s about time.”

That was the nicest thing I would get out of Chloe today so I took it as a compliment. We spent the rest of lunch going over her new duties as co-blogger, first and foremost doing damage control for the blog.

I can’t say that I trusted her, but I was feeling a little bruised and beaten down at that point. Being thrust into the public eye as the slut who banged Isaac James would do that to a person.

**

He picked me up as promised. At exactly six o’clock on the nose, Isaac James knocked on Auntie Abby’s front door wearing a tailored suit jacket over a white dress shirt and form fitting pants. He was delicious, sex on a stick as so many books say. I could have devoured him right then and there.

If Auntie Abby and seven or so of her closest cats hadn’t been watching.

“What did you say your name was again?” she asked Isaac and looked him up and down.

“Isaac,” he replied, “Isaac James.”

“Well, Isaac Isaac James,” she said, “you take good care of Aubrey tonight or I’ll be forced to break open a can of whoop ass.” She cackled as she pulled a dollar store gag gift from behind her back. It was a can with, ‘Whoop Ass’ scrolled across the front in comic book letters.

I could have crawled into a hole just then, and made a mental note to meet Isaac at the restaurant next time.

“I will keep that in mind,” he replied with a serious look on his face, but humour was dancing around the edges of his eyes, “so what’s her curfew?”

She leaned in and looked up at him. Waaaaay up. Auntie Abby was only about five five, she always said my mother was supposed to be twins, that’s why she was double the height of a normal person. She wasn’t, of course, but she had been about six feet. Fashion model and all that.

She appeared to not know if he was pulling her leg or not, gave him the once over and broke out into a laugh. “Bring her home by ten,” she said and gave me as stern a look as she could muster, “in the morning that is. I need a ride to my physio appointment and Lynette is too busy with her hot young yoga instructor to pay attention to me.”

Lynette was her oldest and dearest friend, but she did have a short attention span when hot young men were in play. Reminded me of an older version of the same dynamic between Chloe and I.

“Will do,” Isaac said and reached for her hand, “it’s been a pleasure meeting you.” He gave it a small shake, but she pulled him in and threw her arms around him for a bear hug. He leaned down and accepted it, a crooked smile on his face.

“Seriously,” I said, “it’s not like you’re sending me off to get married. Get a grip, I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun,” she replied and winked at me knowingly. The ground could open up at any time, really, and I’d be fine with it.

“Take care,” Isaac said and we finally escaped her scrutiny. Halfway down the walk to his car, she poked her head out the front door.

“I like him, Aubrey,” Auntie Abby. yelled after us, “don’t mess it up!”

Isaac chuckled and took my hand, gave it a squeeze and said, “She’s awesome, quite a character.”

Character is what polite people call bat shit crazy loved ones of people they don’t want to offend. But hey, I’d take it.

“Thanks,” I replied, “she can be a bit much at times, but she’s my only family so I’m stuck with her.” I grinned to let him know I was kidding. I couldn’t even pretend to not care for her, she really was my only family and I loved her with all my heart. She had picked up the pieces after my parent’s death and patched me together the best she could.

We got into his car, some sleek sports model worth at least six figures more than my shitty Corolla, and headed off to whatever the evening held. Our small talk was easy, we were natural with each other and he got my jokes. All of them. I was more than impressed by the time we pulled up in front of a towering building on Seattle’s waterfront and a valet leapt to his feet to whisk the car away.